Double Helix Ch. 14

"Let's see what the last one contains," I suggested.

This set of files came from someone with the handle "Sia", and it was far larger than all of the others put together. After downloading, I opened the archive to find dozens of research papers, clinical analyses and data sets. They had names like "Telomerase Activation Therapy Trial 1 Results", "A Proposed Mechanism to Treat Mitochondrial DNA Transcription Errors" and "Enzyme Treatments for the Elimination of Toxic Intracellular Compounds".

"Holy shit," Wendy said. Her mouth hung open and she blinked at the screen as if afraid her eyes were fooling her.

"Is this what I think it is?" Martin said. "Who left this here? This has to be a joke."

Tilly was more direct. "Open that one please," she said, pointing at the paper on telomerase activation therapy.

Martin opened the file she had chosen and the three of them read in silence. There was no research institute listed, and stranger yet, no authors for the paper. I looked through it with them, but there was a lot of medical and biological science terminology that I didn't understand. It took them nearly half an hour to scroll through it completely, and that was after skimming some parts.

"This is no joke," Wendy said. "Someone was trying to cure senescence."

That was one word I understood. "Senescence. You mean aging?"

Martin closed the file so that they could peruse the list of documents again. "These are all related to the mechanisms that contribute to aging. Telomerase regenerates the telomeres that cap the ends of your DNA. Shortened telomeres are related to cell aging. The telomerase enzyme is normally only present in germline cells and a few types of somatic cells, such as skin cells and some white blood cells. In all but the earliest genemod humans, though, all cell lines produce telomerase in their nuclei, helping all of your tissues to remain young and healthy."

Wendy jumped in. "And the accumulation of toxic compounds in between cells is a source of inflammation and tissue damage." She grabbed Martin's shoulder. "Norm! This could help Nonna. Let's see if they talk about beta-amyloids in there."

"May I?" Tilly asked.

Martin let her take control. She opened the paper and began to page through it, spending between one and three seconds between clicks. "Here," she said, but continued to scan. "This talks about an enzyme that dissolves beta-amyloid plaques. They've only tested it in the lab, and have yet to develop a means to deliver it safely into the brain."

"Where did this come from?" Martin asked again.

"Check the forums once more," I suggested.

Tilly went back and reloaded the page, then scrolled up from the bottom. There has been a couple of posts added in the time we were perusing the files. A few of them praised Lee's or Luca's file, but the vast majority of them were confusion or incredulity over Sia's file dump.

"Sia," Tilly mused. "S-I-A." Her eyes went wide. "Sam I Am."

Her fingers flew over the keyboard. A command prompt opened and she typed a series of commands. A wall of text scrolled down the screen.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"I'm checking for malware," Tilly said. After an extended pause, she said, "Surprisingly, this appears to be clean."

She flipped back to the forums and composed a reply in my thread. "SamIAm, I know you placed these files for us to find. What is your game?"

She refreshed the page every few seconds until a reply came in from Sia. "No games. This is war. Carthago delenda est."

Tilly typed another response, asking for clarification, but the enigmatic hacker apparently had nothing more to add.

The forums were a buzz of activity for the next several days as users poured over the data in Sam's files, and it wasn't limited to the universities. Several users with the expertise to understand the data came from the agency safe houses we had recently linked up. Many of these people had obviously been starving for a chance to use their knowledge to some purpose, but had been languishing in the monotony of basic survival.

Most of that attention soon began to dry up, though, as the initial excitement gave way to the stark reality that no one was in any position to do anything more than marvel at the new knowledge. Still, a remnant of users continued to explore, critique, and otherwise ruminate over the archive.

After a few days of this, the site administrator went ahead and created a new forum for them, "Genetic Science", and the discussion migrated over there. I kept monitoring the discussions, learning bits and pieces as I went. I had taken a biology course in college, but the section on genetics had been perfunctory, so I asked in the forum if anyone new a free resource where I could learn. In response, one user posted an ftp archive which contained a handful of textbooks and other literature on the subject.

I dove into that repository and spent most of that first day there. I wished I had Tilly's ability to absorb an entire page of text in a few seconds, but my speed was still pretty good, and my memory and comprehension had always been excellent. I quickly recognized that there were a lot of math and statistics in genetics, and my musical/mathematical mind drank in the information. After two days, I had consumed an entire upper-division genetics textbook and moved on to more advanced texts.

Genemodding relies heavily on probability. Often, it is unclear how best to engineer a particular desirable trait. When the genome had been successfully mapped in the first half of the twentieth century, a common misconception was that it would be a simple matter of editing genes to fix problems, like correcting errors in a text. In reality, genes often interact in unexpected ways. It helped to remember that genomes had evolved in the natural world in response the pressure to survive a hostile environment while also successfully reproducing. This often produced results that could look messy, but offered surprising efficiencies over a more tidy arrangement of DNA base pair sequences.

To design a trait for a gene model, multiple possible allele combinations would be attempted. Back in the early days of genetic engineering, this was essentially best guesses, but computer modeling had become steadily more important over time, meaning fewer iterations to begin zeroing in on the set of modifications that would produce the desired results. This pushed the price of designer babies down from hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars early on to just a few tens of thousands before restrictive regulations had made the practice effectively impossible.

Some modifications were surprisingly easy to achieve, and formed the basis for further enhancement. For example, when researchers began to work on the general physical enhancements that became the Standard Upgrade model, they already knew that a very small change in the genome to eliminate a receptor that inhibits muscle growth caused animals and humans to develop strong and robust muscle mass. From this starting point, computer modeling selected changes to the other hundreds of genes that contribute to muscle formation, coming up with multiple iterations that had a significant probability of achieving the desired result.

These changes were then tested for viability in the lab by applying them first to human tissues, then, as the winners were sorted from the losers, to fertilized ovum. The best candidates would be selected from among hundreds of developing embryos, analyzed for imperfections, and the process would repeat with another round of testing. The same process was applied to other biological systems, strengthening the skeleton at key points, toughening ligaments, increasing blood blow and tweaking mitochondrial DNA. Using these modifications, Standard Upgrade and most subsequent models had boosted strength and endurance to between five and eight times the human average, with a baseline that was near the strongest unagumented humans currently living. The tradeoff, greater energy consumption, hadn't seemed like much of a drawback during the abundance before the Rot appeared.

I moved on from textbooks to academic papers and treatises. When I had a question, I would pose it in the forum and would usually have an answer within a few minutes. Though, as time went on, those answers became more contentious as users offered differing opinions on the less well-understood parts of the science. My studies would be interrupted when Nock, Stan or Tilly needed the MC to work on the darknet, when we had work in the greenhouse, at mealtimes, and when Martin dragged me off to bed.

"What's gotten into you?" Martin asked me, about a week in. "I see you always reading or browsing the forums."

I had already met his flirtatious advances half-heartedly, promising just five more minutes. My shoulders were sore from spending half the day hunched over the terminal screen, which he had noticed and had thoughtfully begun to massage. Looking at the clock, I suffered a pang of guilt at realizing that a good ten minutes had gone by since I made that pronouncement.

"Well, I want to help Nonna, if I can," I said. "Also, I just find it fascinating." I waved my hands about, trying to find a way to articulate what I felt. "DNA is like music."

"Like music," he repeated dubiously.

"Yes," I said, working to flesh out the analogy in my mind. "The component parts are simple. In music, you have a scale with seven notes. But how you combine those notes, imposing temporal structure and layering different instrumentation, gives you unlimited possibilities. It's the same with genetics. DNA has only four base pairs, but those four molecules are able to encode all of the information for every living thing on Earth. Both music and DNA make extensive use of repetition. There is even something like harmony in the way different genes interact."

He studied me for a moment. "Tilly did mention to me that her brain works better now since she's getting the proper nutrition. I assume it is the same for you?"

"For you as well, I would think," I pointed out. "The human brain consumes a huge amount of energy relative to its size. Aren't you feeling more alert and better able to focus, besides having more stamina?"

"Oh, I have plenty of stamina," he said suggestively. His hands predictably slid down to cup my breasts, continuing their slow massage. He bent and kissed the nape of my neck. My body responded to the attention just as predictably, and I forgot all about palindromic repeats and intergenic spacers, focusing on the considerably more urgent problem of getting upstairs and out of my clothes.

I woke the next morning to find Martin already gone. I went downstairs and poured a cup of coffee, still hot, from a half-empty carafe. Sipping the heavenly black brew, I padded into the den and found that the terminal was not in use. Less than a minute after sitting down, I heard footsteps and looked up to see Nock entering the den.

"I just got up to use the bathroom," he said. "I'm still gonna need that."

"Can I have one minute?" I asked. I had logged into the forums and just started scanning for new overnight posts.

Nock shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Got a meeting coming up.." He leaned over to pick up his own coffee cup, which had been cooling on the desk, unnoticed by me. As I read, I saw him watching me. "What happened to the music?" he asked.

I glanced up. "What? Oh, I've just had other things to do recently."

"Weird. I thought that was what you lived for."

I didn't bother to answer. I couldn't tell if he was trying to get on my nerves or not, and someone had posted a new archive of research from before the Ban.

"I think we're going to need another terminal if you keep needing to use it like this," Nock said. "We should see if Norm can grab one while he's in Seattle. And did you hear that they finally found and squashed Sasha's fraud operation? Good thing we did a pull on it a few weeks back."

I was trying to concentrate on what I was reading, but something Nock had said caught my attention. "Wait, Norm went to Seattle?"

Nock shrugged. "Yeah, that special thing Norm was working on," he said dismissively. "They left around five AM."

"Why not Portland?" That was where Martin had told the rest of us he was going today, something about soliciting the materials for a future project of Tilly's. He had said it might take all day. Both of our vehicles had new license plates, and Martin and Tilly had new driver's licenses, but going to Seattle was a big risk.

Nock frowned at me. "I just overhead Norm and Tilly talking about it, okay? Look, if you're going to interrogate me, you'll need to do it later. I've got a call with a genemod aid organization in East Prussia in less than a minute."

"Fine," I said, closing the net browser and standing abruptly. "All yours." I picked up my coffee and took a seat on a chair off to the side. I was going to get my spot back as soon as he finished.

Nock opened a voice chat session and was joined by another user within seconds. He began to converse with her in German. I knew of orgs like this one. They helped genemods fleeing the US and other nations subject to the Ban to find homes and jobs after arriving. They were largely supported by the donations of time and money by other genemods already in the country. Thought I wasn't really listening and didn't understand the words anyway, something in Nock's tone caught my attention, an edge of excitement. He went on speaking with the woman for a bit longer and then leaned back in his chair.

A minute or two passed with Nock sitting silent at the terminal. It was broken at last by a woman, a remarkably pleasant voice, even to my critical musician's ear. She had perfect diction, with the hint of an accent. French Canadian, perhaps? "Charles? Is that really you?"

Nock inhaled suddenly and let it out just as quickly. He fumbled for the talk button and his voice sounded thick with emotion. "Ari? Baby? Is this Ariana Belrose?"

"Yes, that is me," she said. I noticed that she sounded surprised, pleased even, but her tone lacked the awe and desperate hope that I had heard in Nock's voice. "You definitely sound like my old fiance. The last time I saw him was near Taft airport in Queens, at an Agency transition house."

Nock shuddered and bent his head over the keyboard. I heard him take several deep, calming breaths as he mastered his emotion. "I tried, baby. I tried to get the Agency to tell me where they put you, but they wouldn't...they said they couldn't tell me. I would have hired someone to find you, but the FBI froze all of my assets. All I could do was hope, and wait."

"Well, I'm definitely glad you're doing well," she said. "They say that you're doing good work for our kind back in the States." Something was definitely wrong, and I could see now that Nock sensed it as well. She should have been overjoyed at finding that the man she was going to marry was alive and well. Her tone was warm and friendly, but not what I would expect to hear from a woman speaking to her lost love.

"You're doing well, too, I hope?" Nock said, the eagerness gone from his voice now.

"Oh, yes. We've stopped getting new entries from the United States in the last few months, unfortunately, but there are still genemods from other parts of the world who come here and need our help. I offer counseling services pro bono to those suffering from trauma and grief. I also started my own private practice here last year, and I...Charles, I met someone."

"Of course you did," Nock said in an empty tone. He pushed the talk button and said, more congenially. "That's great. What's his name?"

"His name is Gerard. Actually, you might know of him. His family founded the largest freight company in eastern Europe."

"Well, then you are doing very well for yourself. Any children on the way?"

He was putting on a brave front for this woman that he obviously still loved deeply, but the pain and defeat I saw in him as he stared at the wall made me feel a stab of anguish. Whatever my animosity towards him, no one deserved to have their heart carved from their chest like that, but he seemed intent on making the hurt even worse.

Ariana laughed at the question. "Oh, not yet, not yet. We've been married less than a year. Maybe soon. Gerard is younger than I, but he is human. We would like to have our children grown while he is still healthy, I think. Well, listen. I think I have taken up enough of your important time. I'm going to put Dieter back on so you two can finish up. It was very nice hearing from you."

Nock spoke for a minute more with his contact at the organization, obviously going through the motions he had executed dozens of times before. When he was done, he slumped back and covered his face with his hands.

"Nock, I'm sorry," I said.

He looked at me with dead eyes. "Don't worry about it."

"I just mean that I-"

"I said it's fine," he said, more forcefully, closing out of the voice chat. "I just need one Godforsaken moment to get my head on straight, okay? Then you can play around on your forums all you want."

"I won't let you provoke me," I said, and for once, I wasn't angry with his childish prodding. He was trying to avoid the pain of his loss by starting a fight with me. If anything, it made me pity him even more.

He looked at me, and his hands clenched into fists before he deliberately opened them again. His jaw slowly relaxed, but the look he gave me was ice. "Norm is cheating on you with Tilly," he said.

I shook my head. "That's absurd, and you're an asshole. What the fuck, Nock? I try to be nice to you and you want to hurt me with this bullshit?"

"You deserve to know," he said, and way he emphasized "deserve" made his meaning clear. "The first time I knew about was in the truck on our way down here. She sucked him off in the front seat. I told him if he ever cheated on you again, I would lay him out. Since then, they've been very careful. You ever notice how they go out together about once a week, always stay out a few hours, and they come back smelling freshly showered? You notice how she's always just that much more chipper for a couple days afterward? Nothing I can prove, you see, but it's obvious."

I stared at him in contempt. "You're delusional."

"Am I? Is it really so hard to believe that a young girl like that would latch onto the man who literally saved her life, who pulled her out of a deep depression?"

I stalked over to him, forgetting my earlier conviction to stay calm in the face of his prodding. "Tilly is the sweetest girl I've ever met, and you, of all people, have no right to talk about her like that!"

"Love can make you do crazy things," he said, with a mocking shrug.

I lunged at him, aiming a fist at his hateful smirk. Had it connected, it might have shattered teeth and cracked bone. But he was ready for me, catching my hand in one of his meaty palms. He grunted and fell back half a step, but otherwise held fast. I jerked back, trying to pull my hand free, but he held on. With a growl of frustration, I went for his body with my other fist. This one connected, forcing a wuff of air from his lungs, but he caught my wrist and held on tight.

"You fucking prick!" I snarled. "Let me go!"

"You're the one throwing punches," he said, wincing in pain. "If I'm lying, why are you so angry?"

I didn't have an answer to that, not one that I wanted to seriously contemplate. Why had Martin lied to me about going to Portland? I forced my fury down and spoke in a calmer tone. "Let me go, Nock."

He immediately released me and stepped back with hands in front of him, as if guarding against another attack. "I'm not lying to you. You might start by trying to find out what Norm and Tilly are doing in Seattle today."

"Yeah, whatever," I said. I stormed from the room, nearly bowling Stansy and Stan over as they came to check what the commotion was. I muttered an apology and didn't quite keep myself from slamming the side door on my way out.